Empty
by idontknowanything
Summary: It all started with a little pink line on a tiny white stick – and now this is it – how the story ends. By popular demand this is a followup oneshot to Pink


A/N: Here it is, the follow up to Pink. I just wanted to let people know, before I get flamed by people who read the summary and first two paragraphs, think they know what's going on, and are too lazy to finish the story to find out what it's really about, that this story is NOT about Liberty having an abortion. It's about something else.

Summary: It all started with a little pink line on a tiny white stick – and now this is it – how the story ends.

Empty

I touch my stomach – it doesn't seem real to me. It never seemed real to me – the concept of a baby was always just a mere thought. All the pain and anguish and decisions and agony I went through following that little pink line of a tiny white stick – and now this is it – how it all ends.

I don't want to examine my feelings, as I lay here in the hospital bed, feeling the dull pain in my abdomen. Feelings are too much for me to think about right now, and I'm still too disoriented and confused to think right now. The pain medication they have given me is making my head swim, and all my thoughts are fuzzy and confused. I try to focus on trying to remember how I got here.

I vaguely remember getting into J.T.'s new car. I remember us fighting, about what we usually fought about anymore. The only thing that really existed of our relationship anymore – the one thing we constantly fought about. I remember the car, running the light, and hitting the passenger side of the car. I remember the airbags opening – I remember worrying about… it… I remember finding oblivion from the pain as I passed out.

Now, I can't help but think, that at least J.T. will be relieved, now. He never wanted it. He didn't want me to get an abortion – which after a lot of thought I agreed to not doing – but he wanted me to give it up for adoption. At first, I agreed with him, until I felt my stomach growing, until I saw it for the first time on the ultrasound. I never realized I could love something so intangible so much until that very moment. I had realized, when looking at the heart beating on the screen, that, no matter what, I would keep my baby.

J.T. and I had faced so much together – our parents censure, the ridicule from half our classmates being evened out by the pity from the other half. We were in love, and we would give our baby a good home with some loving family. We were dealing just fine until that day I changed my mind – that day I realized I couldn't give my baby away. After that, all we did was fight.

I knew why we fought. I wasn't ready for a baby, but I couldn't give it up. J.T. was even less ready, but he could give our baby away. He didn't want to even try to keep it. But I did – there was no way I was going to give it up. I was going to keep my baby, no matter how things got. Until everything changed in a moment of time, that moment of time when I felt the pain in my stomach and felt the blood begin running onto my thighs, as the paramedic was saying "she's miscarrying".

I wonder briefly if J.T. is all right, as I lay here in the pristine white bed in my hospital room. I never asked my mom about him – about how he is doing, as she was sitting beside me, until the moment she was chased out by the harried nurse to allow me time to rest. I never thought to ask about J.T., as I laid there thinking about my baby girl I would never know. Thinking about all the baby girls and boys I would never know, as my mother told me there were "complications" after I lost my baby. I would never be able to have a baby of my own. I am too lost in my own sorrow to worry about J.T., as I lay here, still.

The sad thing is that a part of me hates J.T. right now – the boy I'm supposed to love. I hate him because he got his way – because there is not a teenage mistake to ruin his dreams of the future anymore. I hate him because he was driving the car that was hit. I hate him because he got me pregnant – because we made a baby that I started to love so much, only to lose it in the end. I hate him because I can't hate myself.

I can't hate myself, for feeling the same. For that feeling of relief I feel, when I think those forbidden thoughts about the future I had all but given up on until this moment. For being the one to suggest that J.T. drive us to the mall, instead of taking some kind of public transportation. For getting myself pregnant – for loving this baby so much that I couldn't imagine giving it away For loving my little girl so much, that I can't imagine that she's not there – that's she's not safe and sound, nestled in my womb, waiting for the day she was ready to be born.

I touch my stomach, and it feels empty. I feel empty. I feel like I don't exist anymore – that my baby took a part of me with her when she left my body. I didn't want to be pregnant. I never chose to be pregnant. But, as tears run down my cheeks, I do now. All I want now is to be pregnant – to have my baby filling the emptiness under my heart. But, I have to accept the fact that it will never happen. My baby is gone, and with her, all of the future children I've never really thought about until now. I'm empty inside.


End file.
